Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar - Robert Perry Case

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And Doug.

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The Columbia Broadcasting System presents yours truly Johnny Dollar.

The next half hour has its baggage pack to take a trip with America's fabulous freelance

insurance investigator.

Johnny Dollar, at insurance investigation, he is just an expert.

At making out his expense account, he is an absolute genius.

Expense account submitted by Special Investigator Johnny Dollar, to Home Office, American Continental

Life Insurance Company, Hartford, Connecticut.

The following is an accounting of my expenditures fulfilling your assignment as a bodyguard, the

body being that of your late policyholder Robert W. Perry.

Expense account item 1, fair on night train Hartford to New York, $3.80.

Expense account item 2, $1.80, taxy to lower Manhattan the following morning, two offices

Perry and Van Bruton importers arriving as promised at exactly 9 a.m.

My name is Johnny Dollar, I have an appointment with Mr. Perry for 9 o'clock.

Oh, yes, from the insurance company.

Well, you're right on time.

Well, they told me I'd better be.

Mr. Perry just came in, he's alone and waiting for you, I'll buzz in that you're here.

Thanks.

What was left of your policyholder, Mr. Perry, was just sliding out of his swivel chair

as I hit the room.

The top of his desk had erupted, and splitted the mahogany pointed their sharp fingers

upward through lazy circles of smoke swirling toward the ceiling.

The buzzer from his secretary's desk had been rigged to a booby trap.

Oh, no, Mr. Perry.

Stay away from.

There's nothing you can do for him.

He's dead.

What happened?

What happened?

Whatever happened.

Come on.

Let's look it back out of here.

Here you are.

Sit down.

I'll get you a drink of water.

Here you are.

I'll just drink this.

What happened?

Are you the next solution?

I'm turning in the line.

Is anybody heard?

There's a doctor in the third floor, should I call him?

Never mind the doctor.

Call the police.

And nobody gets in here until they arrive.

And the rest of the year, go on.

Feed it.

Run along.

And turn off that alarm.

OK, Miss.

Now, just take it easy.

It was all so sudden.

What happened?

Well, that's not too hard to figure out.

Somebody wanted to give your boss, Mr. Perry, a shortcut through life.

So whoever it was, figured out that a secretary would never buzzer a boss unless he was at his desk.

They rigged up a bomb somewhere in his desk.

It would go off when you buzzed him.

Wait a minute.

Wait a minute.

Don't get hysterical on me.

There's excitement enough around here.

And there'll be plenty more when the police get here.

Keep cool.

But I didn't.

You saw me, dude.

Look, the way you put it, I killed him by coming in here and giving you my name so you'd buzz him.

Drop it, will you?

I'm sorry.

Now, what about yesterday?

Was he here?

Yes, all day.

What time was it when you last used the buzzer?

Right up to the last minute, about 5'30.

Oh, who left the office first? You or Perry?

Mr. Perry, he always leaves first and I lock up.

What's the thing? You should've used more locks last night.

Somebody got in here to do some wiring.

Oh, I forgot that fire alarm.

All that equipment and no fire.

Look, before the police arrive, do you know why I was set here?

Yes. Mr. Perry recently felt that his life was in danger.

He thought that, well, with a $100,000 policy, the insurance company would do everything they could

to help keep him alive.

Well, we didn't have much of a chance to be.

What was he afraid of?

I don't know.

Okay. What were his other appointments for the day?

He only had two.

His partner, Mr. Van Bruten, at 11.

One at a time now. Van Bruten.

Anything special about their meeting?

Yes. Mr. Van Bruten arrived just yesterday from Holland.

You mean there was a branch of this firm in Holland?

Yes. Mr. Perry was buying out Van Bruten's interest.

Had their final meeting at Van Bruten's hotel last night.

Van Bruten was coming by this morning to pick up his money.

A cash?

No, a cashier's check.

The bank is to deliver here at 10.30.

Now, quick. Perry's other appointment. Who was that?

Christine is wife.

Oh, yeah. Now Christine the beneficiary.

Yes, but she wouldn't have been the beneficiary in another two weeks.

They were getting a divorce.

Thanks for the marve. You don't like her?

I didn't mean it that way.

How about Perry? Did you like him?

Okay. Well, here's an easy one. What's your name?

Susan. Susan Gates. That was never about enough.

Okay, Susan. You'd better save your voice.

During the next few hours, you're going to have a lot of talking to do.

Oh, here come the firemen.

And we haven't even got a child who asked them to save them.

Where's the fire? I'm looking for a fire.

Just stick around. When the cops get here, somebody'll get burned.

The firemen should have stuck around because the cops arrived in a blaze of glory.

It was a very high class investigation.

Two lieutenants.

Finally, after about an hour, the police photographer ran out of flash bulbs.

The office of a deceased ran out of fingerprints.

And the lieutenants ran out of questions.

So the on the scene phase of the investigation was closed.

At about five minutes of 11, I left the police to pack up their notebooks, their clues, the body, and went into the outer office.

Susan looked like she could use a big broad shoulder to weep on, but unfortunately, I was wearing my light gray suit.

About then, a dark blue suit and a deep green voice ended the room from the corridor.

Say there's some fellow out here, Sissy Belongs here. His name is Ven Bruton.

Shall I let him in?

Oh, what do you think? His name is on the door. You just open?

Well, my name happens to be Murphy and it's unbeds all over the country.

But that don't mean I'm stuck with feathers, does it?

As it'll teach it, Johnny Dada, never to cross tongues with an Irishman.

Okay, send him in, officer.

All right, you can come in.

The policeman out there is a trouble here.

Oh, I am Bremov, I'm Bruton. Where's Mr. Perry?

What? He's waiting for me, no?

No. But my appointment, he's not keeping any, he's dead.

What?

This is impossible last night, I saw him, he was well. What happened?

He was hit by a buzz bomb.

A buzz bomb? Please.

Oh, sorry, I forgot other people aren't used to these things.

You mean, that was foul play?

Very foul.

Please, may I sit down?

My first visit in all these years since before the war. It was to be so happy.

Now, tragedy like this, he was a good man, a good partner.

I understand that as of last night, you were no longer...

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And Doug, there's nowhere I wouldn't go to help someone customize

and save on car insurance with Liberty Mutual.

Even if it means sitting front row at a comedy show.

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What is this, your first date?

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Me too, a human, him to a bird.

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Brothers?

Yeah, I'm glad you mentioned that.

I realize, of course, that it is indelic to speak of such things as money

at a time like this.

No, that is why I'm here to receive my payment.

Oh, just because Perry got his,

there's no reason for you not getting yours, huh?

But you misunderstood me.

I am deeply grieved.

Since the transaction was consummated,

what are there to do?

A delay would be in need this waste of money.

I have already paid for passage back to Amsterdam tomorrow.

Your check is here.

There you are.

Thank you.

In all my years of business,

this is indeed the saddest moment.

Yeah.

Yeah, those are very kind words, Van Bruten.

And I'd believe them.

If your eyes would stop counting all the zeros on that check.

The expense account, item three, 90 cents.

Phone call to your company.

American kind of in life insurance company, good morning.

Oh, well, that's a matter of opinion.

This is Johnny Dollar.

Put me through to Mr. Gordon, will you?

Yes, sir.

Mr. Gordon's office?

Look, Connie, this is Johnny Dollar.

I want to speak to Gordon.

Oh, and why am I telling him why I've got to tell him?

Maybe you'd better sit in his lap with some smelling salts.

I'm not that type of a secretary.

And besides, he doesn't have a lap.

Hello, Dollar.

How are you making out?

I owe about $100,000.

What's that?

Yes, somebody turned Mr. Perry into a firecracker.

He's dead.

That's right, news.

It's a big policy.

Yeah.

Look, what I want to know is, shall I stay on the case?

Well, certainly, Dollar.

Certainly by all means.

By the way, is there a chance of the proving suicide?

There's a non-payment clause.

To make this one a suicide, it'd have to be a Santa clause.

Nobody could hate himself enough to do it this way.

No.

What are the fraud possibilities?

Oh, only fair.

There's an estranged wife.

She's the beneficiary, but she wouldn't have been in the couple of weeks divorced coming up.

I'll start with her.

All right, Dollar.

Good luck.

But watch those expenses.

Why, Gordon?

I'm surprised.

I think an insurance man would be the first to want to see a fellow live a little.

Expense account?

Item free.

Cab fare? $2.80.

Tip to driver? $1.

Christine Perry's apartment was on certain place overlooking the river.

And from what the dormant told me, all of the proprieties.

I took the elevator up to the 24th floor,

and there I discovered that our garden fresh widow was living high in more ways than one.

Everything about the place was French.

The maid that led me into the living room.

The decor.

And the perfume.

Which reminds you that breathing can be fun.

I looked up from enjoying my nose to see Mrs. Perry looking down her.

Mr. Dollar?

How is it Perry?

I believe we can dispense within a getting experience.

You're an insurance investigator.

Interested in the death of my husband.

So naturally you're here because you've jumped to the conclusion that I killed him.

Oh?

You're the one that's jumping to conclusions, lady.

And what do you want?

The policies in order, the premium of the police aid.

I'm not quite sure.

I know that you've got a great motive.

So far the only motive I've found.

You haven't had much time to look at him.

Check, this is my first time.

Maybe you can help me.

Do you know anyone who would be happier with your husband out of the way?

I know very little about my husband's friend.

Or for that matter, his activity for the past six months.

That's when I left him.

Uh-huh.

Well, that's not much help for either of us.

I know without someone else to suspect, I may just have to concentrate on you.

Mr. Dollar, I picked him in.

I want to concentrate on me.

Well, I hope he was long on alibis as you are short on your temper.

Where were you last night?

For the friend, Al Donovan.

For a while, I think this my husband was.

And I've witnesses to prove who was with him.

Anybody at the club could freeze, can tell you.

You saved me a trip.

I can't afford the prices they get there.

Certainly.

My husband was with his beautiful little secretary, Sidney Gates.

Wow, I wouldn't be more surprised if your late husband walked through the door and said that...

All right, Mr. That's enough.

Yeah.

How much did he give you?

I'm a big guy, baby.

Six foot four, and I've got big ears to make.

Oh, please!

Would this be Mr. Donovan, your companion of last evening?

I'm getting you out of here, Christine.

How do you know what you're saying?

You lied to me.

How can I help you if you lied to me?

You called me stupid.

The way you're playing this, you'll alibi yourself right into yourself.

I'm getting you out of here.

What are you doing to me, alibi?

Come on.

She's right.

You are stupid, Donovan.

She was doing just fine until you dropped in.

Mr. You've been asking a lot of questions.

Now I'll give you one answer.

All right, Christine.

So much for the wise guy.

Now about you and your alibi.

You wasn't with me at the club caprice last night.

And if it's always that I proved your husband was there with his secretary,

who were you there with?

You told me you were going with your husband, talking divorce, remember?

When Al measured me for that swing, I measured my chances with him.

To me, he looked like one of the corporate assets of murder incorporated.

So I rolled with a punch, hit the floor, and stayed there,

but my eyes closed and my ears opened.

What I heard was Christine's alibi flying out the window

was to Donovan giving her a few loving cuffs

and finally the pair of them flying out the door.

I allowed myself the luxury of a 22nd massage

and the new lump on my jaw and then I got up and started out after them.

This case was becoming interesting.

In just a moment, we'll return to the second act of yours truly, Johnny Dollar.

But first, this important message.

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And all the time, as these activities go on uninterrupted,

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Fire, flood, explosion, any sort of catastrophe finds the Red Cross on the scene with food, clothing, and medical care.

$60 million isn't so much in the life of subjectivity.

We can make it with each of us contributing.

We're giving to our own safety, security, and peace of mind, and to our neighbors too.

So let's give generously to our own Red Cross.

And now back to the second act of yours truly, Johnny Dollar.

I hit the street just in time to see Darwin pushing Christine Perry into a cream colored convertible.

When they got rolling, I piled into a cab and followed them, and the chase was on.

At 57th and Broadway, things got complicated.

My cab was three cars behind theirs when a red light flashed into a...

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Even if it means sitting front row at a comedy show.

Hey everyone, check out this guy and his bird. What is this, your first date?

Oh, no. We help people customize and save on car insurance with Liberty Mutual together. We're married.

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Yeah, the bird looks out of your league anyways.

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Stop. Then the door of their convertible flew open.

Christine jumped out, dashed across the street and down into the subway.

Since Donovan didn't follow her, I followed him.

When he finally pulled over stop, he took two chances.

He parked in a no parking zone and walked straight into the building beside it.

A police station.

This is Mr. Dollar Loot, and he's been waiting for you for some time.

Now you can wait outside, Sergeant.

Okay, sir.

My name is Johnny Dollar Loot, and I share my credentials.

Insurance, eh?

Yeah, the Perry murder in particular.

May you come to the right place, Dollar.

A man named Donovan just walked in here and made a full confession.

Hey, what? That's right.

My clerk's just typing it up.

In the meantime, the gentleman is down in the tank having a bite of lunch on the city.

He confessed. Does his story add up?

As far as I know.

I haven't heard too much about the case myself.

It's not in my precinct.

What are they used for a motive?

Jealousy.

Says he's in love.

Wanted to marry Perry's wife.

Oh, did he say how he managed it?

Yeah.

He stole a key to the office from the wife's apartment, and at the building last night,

and wired a bomb to the buzzer system.

Oh.

Well, guys do a lot of strange things.

The name of love?

Yeah, it looks like Donovan did.

Yeah, he either killed a man, or he's trying to cover up for someone who did.

Well, listen, don't execute him for a couple of days.

Hollywood, isn't it?

I spent the rest of the afternoon downtown in the offices of Perry and Van Bruton,

importers.

The father's correspondence told me two things.

They had been extremely friendly, and Van Bruton was extremely bald.

Perry had been sending him two pays from a famous Hollywood makeup firm.

At 430, I opened the draw-on-marked employment files.

They rocked me with two minor explosions of their own.

The folder marked Donovan, Albert J., told me that he'd been employed as Perry's bodyguard

over a period of years, and that he was canned the day before the murder.

Before I received blast number two from the folder of Perry's secretary, Susan Gates,

the office door opened behind me.

Well, Mr. Donovan, you're supplied with a search warrant.

Just the one I was born with, Mrs. Perry, the kind they say kills cats.

You know, curiosity.

What are you looking for?

I found it.

How about you?

What are you doing here?

Why?

I'm tired of dueling with you.

I'm here because I want to.

Well, I've got to talk to someone.

I called her and she'll tell you what they are.

I tried to locate Susan, but I couldn't so.

I thought maybe you'd be down here.

What's the basis of our sudden friendship?

You should know.

Our Donovan's confession.

The newspapers haven't already?

Is that there's not a word of truth, and he didn't kill my husband?

How do you know that?

Because what?

It's impossible at all.

It was a little hard for me to swallow, too, when the police told me about it.

But since then, it's become a little more digestible.

What do you mean?

I just learned that he was your husband's bodyguard.

He was fired yesterday.

That same day your husband calls his insurance when he's screaming for another bodyguard.

Now, how would that end up for you, a beef, maybe?

Well, Donovan's a fool.

Never thinks.

He just rushes in and says it does whatever's on his mind.

He told my husband if he didn't divorce me.

How he threatened him.

You came in here saying that Donovan's confession was no good.

And you spend your time making it sound better and better.

What do you want anyway?

I can't help it.

I've got to tell you this.

I know it doesn't sound like I'm trying to help Albert.

What can I do?

You really want me to answer that?

If you want to help out, phone the police.

Tell them Donovan made that phony confession to cover up for you.

It's simple.

Not as simple as that.

You don't need the gun, Christine.

Hang up the phone.

Sure.

I hope you don't mind my version being held for murder myself.

Well, that's a common version.

I'm going to know hurry to see you behind bars.

But don't forget, when the cops want to pick you up, they'll do it.

Now, don't spoil the rest of the afternoon.

Take that gun someplace else.

I've got things to do.

The first time I'd do would be the call that I wouldn't make.

Not necessarily.

If it'll make you feel any better, we'll just put this bolt out of water.

Satisfied?

Of course not.

But don't get me wrong, Mr. Dollar.

I wish you nothing but success in your investigation.

I puzzled over that exit line for a few seconds after she'd gone.

And then I went back to the company's employment file.

Namely, the application for employment as secretary of Susan Gates.

It informed me that during the war she had worked in a munitions plant.

Her specialty?

Wiring bomb fuses.

When Mrs. Susan Gates reached home at 830 that evening, she found a visitor.

Me.

Oh, how did you get in here?

A professional secret.

Oh, you scared me.

What do you want?

Why did you come here?

I wanted to bring you the good news.

I heard on the radio that Al Donovan confessed to Perry's murder.

Al?

I can't believe it.

Why not?

Who do you like to the spot?

Quite Christine.

Al is covering up for her.

I'd like to agree with you.

If it turns out that Christine wound up her husband's life with a bang,

the company that hired me saves $100,000.

But I don't know.

She claims she has all kinds of alibis.

Well, I'm as you.

Me.

Can you see her at the club caprice last night?

Well, who is?

I know who you were with.

Your boss.

There's nothing wrong with that.

I'm not preaching it, sir.

I want to know who she was with.

I don't know.

Man I'd never seen before.

Mr. Perry knew him, but he wouldn't tell me who he was.

Why not?

I don't know.

He said I might get the wrong idea.

About what?

I don't know.

We didn't sit there and talk about it all night.

Why should we sit here and talk about it all night?

All right, all right.

On a census taker shows up and asks a lot of questions.

People answer them.

When an investigator tries to do his job,

they make the proverbial clam look like a blabbermouth.

Look, Mr. Down.

Believe me.

This has been a greater shock to me than to anyone else.

Accepting, of course, your late employer, Mr. Perry.

How long did you work for him?

Four years.

How were you work before then?

Why?

Let me help you.

Bombs, wiring fusions.

Remember?

All right.

I remember.

Good.

Then maybe you'll remember a little bit more.

Let's go back to last night.

Guy with Christine Perry.

Who was he?

I tell you, I don't know.

Was it Van Broken?

I don't know.

You don't know.

No, I mean...

I'll get that.

No, I'll go.

I'm going.

Susan!

When Susan snapped the spring lock to open the door,

the gun outside opened up.

The first slug quarter in the left shoulder,

spinning her out of the way of the rest of them.

It was getting a nut in it.

Every time a buzzer went off, things started booming.

Susan was sprawled out in the floor in front of the door.

And to open it, I had a mover.

By the time I did, the hallway outside was empty.

Okay.

Come on, take it easy.

It won't start hurting for a couple of minutes.

I'll never doctor here by the way.

He'll give you something.

Just try and keep calm.

Yeah.

I'll throw my coat over you.

Try not to move.

I'm trying to ruin this rug.

Never mind the rug.

But what you want to worry about is who tried to ruin you.

What will they do to me?

What will who do to you?

They'll arrest me.

Now they don't arrest people for getting shot.

Do you have any idea who it was?

That man in the office this morning.

The one who picked up the check.

Van Broot?

No, no, he wasn't Van Broot.

He was a pony.

Yes.

And you still gave him that check?

Yes.

Well, I won't ask you why.

But apparently you gave him the morning and then tried a blackmail.

Am I right?

No, it was me.

I wouldn't be a bit surprised.

Who is this guy?

Where can I find him?

Come on, I don't pass on him.

I mean, now his name quick.

Vincent.

Where's he live?

Nelson Hotel.

Under his own name?

Oh, I don't.

I don't blame him.

I could use a few moments to unconsciousness myself.

The Nelson Hotel didn't have a Dutch name on the register.

So I got a hold of the housekeeper.

And found out how many rooms his staff hadn't been able to make up all day

because of do not disturb signs in their doors.

I went to calling at these particular rooms.

On the ninth floor, I awakened one old maid.

On the seventh, I started a bunch of poker players

who thought they were being raided.

On the fifth, I blushed my way out of the bridal suite.

And on the fourth, I struck the door of 427.

And the jackpots.

Who's there?

Don't you see the sign?

I do not wish to be disturbed.

Oh, sorry, I must have the wrong room.

I started up the hall after the fire act.

But when I got to it, I changed my mind.

One of the few things I learned about this guy, Vincent,

was that he loved to murder people through doors.

So I decided against trying to chop his down.

And I remembered the way those people

he important out of those offices earlier in the day

when they heard that fire alarm.

So I picked up the little red hammer next to the big red fire ax,

broke the little glass window, pulled the little brass hook,

and set off a big brassy noise when I rushed back to 427.

Fire, fire!

Where's the fire?

Right here in my eyes, sweetheart.

Are you come here?

You'll wish you hadn't.

Never mind, address her.

You're through shooting guns for the day.

Oh.

Why do you think, Vincent?

You want to try some more?

If you cannot make me stay here, the fire will all die.

You look good, Bobbycude.

But I'll make a deal with you. You talk.

If I like what I hear, I'll show you how to get out of here alive.

How do I know this?

Well, you don't think I'm going to stay here and fry to you?

And if you don't start flapping that tongue in a hurry,

I'll probably just tie you to a chair and run.

First, where's Van Brutten?

You were finding me in the bedroom.

You better be alive.

He's out cold.

What's the matter with him?

People be all right.

He's on the sedatives.

What does this identity switch start?

If I hurry up, I smell smoke.

I knew Van Brutten and Amsterdam.

I knew about the sale of his interest.

And I knew that the girl in the office here had never seen van Brutten.

Well, let's go now.

I don't get up. I can feel it getting warm in here.

The firefighters.

You will be saved.

I don't be too sure. They always start at the top floor.

And work their way down.

Come on, I can hear those flames cracking.

You know the rest.

Last night, when the transaction was all finished with Perry,

I gave to Van Brutten some sedative in his cocoa.

You set up that bomb so Perry'd get it before you showed up to pick up the check.

Yeah, I told you that.

Then it happened that girl didn't know I wasn't in pasta.

I don't know how.

Let me tell you, she's been sending Oh Van Brutten in there.

Two pays for the last four years.

Grey ones, my red-headed friend.

Oh, y'all.

This is going to be a no.

Yeah, I'll pull.

Expense account item four, $1.40.

Nightletter informing you that American continental would have to meet payment of plane to Mrs. Christine Perry.

Innocent widow of the insured.

The only thing she was guilty of was trying to stay on the right side of a hot tempered boyfriend.

She lied about who she was with at the club caprice, not to fix herself an alibi,

but to keep Al Donovan from learning that she'd been out with another guy.

That guy being the real Mr. Van Brutten.

Who had only taken her out to try to target into reconciling with his friend, her husband.

Item five, $60 silver-chafing dish.

Wedding present for Christine and her new husband, Al Donovan.

That was Alicia Gadou for the guy who had confessed to a murder he thought she had committed.

Item six, $8 flowers for Susan Gates, prison hospital.

Item seven, fine for turning in false alarm, $1,000 and no sense.

And that's what I think I'm beginning to get for getting into this racket.

No sense.

Expense account total, $1263.

Yours, uh...

Truly...

Johnny Dollar.

You know, I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Darn it.

In just a moment, we'll tell you about next week's Johnny Dollar Adventure.

But first, this reminder.

Just a little earlier tonight on CBS, Jack Bennay turned drug addict actor on the Ford Theatre.

But this Sunday, he'll be back again on his own show with a special treat for the Jack

Benny fans.

After the last broadcast on which the Ronald Coleman appeared, thousands of letters came in

from fans asking the Jack and Pat Ronnie and Bonita back again soon.

The walk he can wit did, and Ronnie and Bonita, by popular demand, returned to the Jack Benny

program this Sunday in what should result in one of the most hilarious broadcasts of

the year.

So be sure to listen to Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman on the Jack Benny show, which is heard

on all CBS stations this Sunday.

Listen in again next week when CBS brings you yours truly Johnny Dollar with Charles

Russell as Johnny.

Yours truly Johnny Dollar is written by Paul Dudley and Gil Dowd with music by Mark

Warner and is produced and directed by Richard Sandville for CBS, La Columbia,

Ross Casting System.

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